


i thought i couldn't love anymore

by KaiBlue



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD, Dadza, Emotional Manipulation, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Hybrids, I'm Bad At Tagging, Insane Wilbur Soot, Manipulation, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-12 10:53:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29883471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KaiBlue/pseuds/KaiBlue
Summary: A newly revived Wilbur has one thing on his mind: find his little brother Tommy. But of course, things were never easy. Between strange flashbacks, absentee fathers, childhood friends, and a freakishly tall hybrid, Wilbur doesn’t think he’s quite the same person as he was when he died. He hates it, he wishes nobody bothered bringing him back.Or….SBI drama and Enderboy shenanigans*Everything up to the Finale is canon, but then it goes off course*
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s), Ranboo & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Ranboo & Technoblade & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Ranboo & Wilbur Soot, Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit, Wilbur Soot & Technoblade, Wilbur Soot & Technoblade & TommyInnit & Phil Watson, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit & Phil Watson
Comments: 4
Kudos: 91





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> TW: panic attacks/dissociation [but i try and not go into detail], suicidal thoughts, mentions of death and vague mentions of blood, emotional manipulation
> 
> please stay safe!!

Being brought back from the dead was not a comfortable endeavor. Especially when you were perfectly content with being dead in the first place, the bustling, lively air of  _ life  _ was entirely overwhelming. A sharp contrast to the comforting peace and calm that emanates from the Afterlife. He missed it already.

It was with a pained groan that the brown haired man on the floor realized exactly what had happened that drew him away from his peaceful  _ dead _ activities and made him so entirely uncomfortable. He was alive.  _ He didn’t want to be alive. Why was he alive? _

The man sat up, sucking in a breath as he felt a sharp pain in his chest, as if he had been stabbed-  _ oh, right.  _ He lifted his bloody shirt just enough to see the barely healed wound.  _ Okay, fuck _ . For a split second, he contemplated finding something sharp and reopening the wound, just so he could fall back into the Afterlife.

Looking around, he squinted his eyes as the vibrant colors popped out at him. Greens, reds, blues, yellows… all in shades that didn’t exist in the Afterlife. Everything there was dulled, calmed. Here, it was so painfully _energetic_ and, quite frankly, _excruciating._ Before he could continue in his search for a sharp object- hell, even a dull object, just _anything_ \- he was interrupted by a very familiar voice. A voice he looked up to, grew up hearing. The last voice he heard before he died. 

“Wilbur?”

“Hello, Phil.” He could taste the blood on his teeth as he smiled at the older man, “I take it you missed me?” His voice was hoarse from months of misuse. 

The man, Phil, didn’t respond right away. He just stared at Wilbur, who was still on the floor, smile slipping off his face.

Wilbur rolled his eyes, “Well, you clearly did miss me. Enough to fucking  _ revive me.  _ Wasn’t me literally begging you to kill me enough of a hint that I wanted to die? Perhaps I wanted to  _ stay  _ dead, as well.”

Again, Phil stayed silent. Wilbur took this moment to look over his father, noticing the slight changes that had occurred during his time in death. His hair was longer. A few blond strands tied into the braid signature to the Antarctic Empire. Wilbur hadn’t seen his father donn the intricate braid in years. There were new dark circles under his eyes, and he seemed overall more tattered and exhausted. Though despite how much had changed, some things stayed the same. Like the large wings spanning from his back. Threatening, like he remembered.

When he still didn’t respond, the brown haired man tensed. “Phil?” He asked, making sure to keep his voice smooth. 

_ He couldn't trust Phil. Not now, not anymore. He couldn’t trust anyone. They all left him, he was alone. Pogtopia was so cold. Even Tommy left him. Tommy. Why did Tommy leave him? He knows I love him, right? Was my love not enough? I need to find him _

Wilbur’s thoughts were going wild. A hurricane of distrust and paranoia. He didn’t remember feeling like this while he was dead, but he certainly remembers being like this while he was alive. Maybe it has to do with the chemical mind? Wilbur didn’t want to think too deeply about it. But he wasn’t really given a chance when Phil started talking again, voice quiet  _ (quieter than he remembers it being) _ .

“Do you remember being dead? Being Ghostbur?”

_ What the fuck is a Ghostbur? _

Wilbur stared at Phil, eyebrows furrowed. He slowly shook his head, fluffy brown hair bouncing with his movements. 

The older man adopted a guilty look, bringing two hands up to his face and sighed deeply. Wilbur couldn’t help but notice the slight tremble to his shoulders, and tried his best to push down his concern.  _ Phil didn’t bother being concerned about me, he doesn't care about me, I shouldn’t care about him. He left me, just like everybody else did. It was so cold, all alone.  _

Pushing the thoughts out of his head, Wilbur took Phil’s distraction in stride and attempted to stand. Being sure to remain wary of his still painful wound, The brown haired man slowly stood, grunting as his legs nearly gave out under him. 

Phil looked up at the sound, eyes widening. The winged man darted forward to catch him, throwing one arm around his waist and the other placed on his shoulder, quickly pulling away as Wilbur flinched violently. Not expecting the sudden movement, Phil’s grasp on his son loosened. Without the stability the older man offered, Wilbur fell over, hitting his head against the ground, effectively knocking him unconscious.

The older man rushed to his side, falling on his knees and rapidly checking over him to make sure he was alright. He sighed in relief when everything seemed fine, pulling the man’s unconscious form closer to himself.

He was hit with a cruel sense of deja vu, the last time he held his son like this, it was with a bloody sword stabbed through Wilbur’s abdomen, teeth stained red as he smiled at him while the light in his eyes faded for what he thought would be forever.

“Come on, Wil.” Phil whispered, “Let’s go home.”

Phil flared his wings as he stood, shifting the tall man in his grasp just slightly to make sure his grip was strong. When he felt secure in his arms, he jumped. With a strong flap of his wings, they were in the air, flying back in the direction of the Arctic base he calls home. 

Not much later, the two landed in front of a cottage. Phil didn’t notice Wilbur stirring until he rolled out of his arms. Too shocked to catch him, the older man watched as the taller rolled into the snow, hyperventilation and shaking. 

_ It’s so cold. It’s cold. I don’t like the cold. It was cold in Pogtopia. Where is Tommy? He’s warm. It’s too cold.  _ Wilbur shook his head violently, rubbing his hands up and down his arms in an attempt to warm himself.

As he attempted to stand, Phil jumped into action, wrapping his arms around the other. This time he didn’t release him when he flinched, resulting in Wilbur thrashing around, trying to free himself. 

“Wilbur, Wil, please listen. You’re safe. I promise.” Phil soothed, pushing back the tears that threatened to fall. 

Wilbur whimpered, “‘M cold, Phil.”

“I know, son.” He took a deep breath, calming himself. “I know. Let’s go inside so you can warm up, alright? Doesn’t that sound nice?”

He didn’t say anything, but the way he fell limp in his father’s arms was enough of an answer for Phil. He carefully lifted the man back into his arms and walked up the wooden steps leading up to the cottage.

Slamming the door open in his haste to get inside, he rushes to the shabby but comfortable looking sofa, and carefully laying down his shivering son. Just as he was grabbing a nearby blanket to cover him with, a pink haired man came swiftly down the stairs.

“Phil? What’s goin’-” His eyes flicked to the lump on the couch before looking back to Phil. “Is that..?”

He didn’t finish his sentence before Phil nodded. “Yeah. It’s Wil.”

The pinket walked closer and fell to his knees in front of the sofa, placing his hands on Wilbur’s cheeks, touching their foreheads together. 

“Wil, Wilbur, oh my god. You’re here, you’re actually back. God, I missed you so much, Wil.” 

If you asked him now, Technoblade would have denied the fact that he had cried while holding on to his childhood friend’s face, finally reunited. If you asked Phil, he would admit with a sad smile that he shed more than a few tears at the sight of the two men. 


	2. Enderboy

When he woke, Wilbur was decidedly warmer than when he fell asleep. A woolen blanket draped over him, along with a cozy fireplace greeting him when he opened his eyes. Sitting up carefully, remembering his wound, he looked around the unfamiliar room.

Various cloaks and weapons were scattered around, and Wilbur’s brows furrowed at the familiarity. Shaking the feeling, he quickly recognized this to be Technoblade’s home. He didn’t know exactly how he knew, as it was  _ not  _ the type of place you’d expect Technoblade to live in, but he just knew it was. He brushed it off to be just knowing the hybrid since they were young. 

Continuing his look around, Wilbur’s eyes landed on a familiar outfit. One he never thought he’d see again. Simple brown pants with a long light blue and white coat over a cream colored dress shirt. Beside it was a blue and gold fur cape with a brown satchel. He already knew, without looking at it properly, the cape had an Antarctic Empire insignia on the back.

_ First Phil with the braid, and now the outfit? The Empire was disbanded years ago.  _ Wilbur thought, still looking at the outfit, that was clearly meant for him.

He still didn’t understand why Phil brought him back. He was the one who killed him, the one who was never there to save him from the cold.  _ It was so, so cold in Pogtopia. In the button room.  _

* * *

_ He was walking around New L’Manberg, staring at the pretty lanterns he put into the sky. He smiled as he remembered fond memories of Phil and him making them in his childhood.  _

_ Not completely aware of his surroundings, he didn’t notice the creeper sneaking up behind him. He flinched violently as the tell tail hissing filled his ears. He scrambled away as fast as he could, but it just wasn’t fast enough and the resulting explosion sent him flying forward a few metres with a loud cry. _

_ Blinking slowly, he pulled himself back onto his feet, and turned around to survey the damage. The explosion opened up what looked to be a man-dug hole in the mountain, and he took a few curious steps forward. _

_ Freezing with wide eyes, he tried to decipher the weird tingling feeling in his stomach. He realized not too long ago that he gets that feeling when his mind is trying to remember something. What was it about this room that was so familiar? _

_ “Oh no…” He turned around to see who spoke, and came face to face with Tubbo and Phil. Tubbo was staring wide eyed at the uncovered room, and Phil’s eyes were flicking between him and the room, jaw clenched.  _

_ He turned back around, “Why does this room feel so familiar?” _

_ Tubbo chuckled awkwardly, “I am so not prepared for this conversation…” _

_ Phil spoke for the first time, “Cover it up, Tubbo!” His voice was uncharacteristically harsh, and his hands shook as he gestured to the room.  _

_ The young president jumped to action, covering the room with the only block he had available, pure iron. Not very practical, he noted. _

_ He didn’t understand what about the room made everyone so upset, but he didn’t want them to feel that way so he decided that maybe he could go on without knowing what the room was and why it felt so familiar. He didn’t want anyone to be upset, especially if it was because of him. _

_ He shrugged, “It’s okay, I don’t really care.” _

_ The two just stared as he gave them a dopey smile and turned to walk away. _

* * *

Wilbur gasped. He carefully uncurled himself from the fetal position he came back to, wincing as his wound was irritated.

Trying his best to calm his shaking hands, Wilbur took a deep breath in the ways he always did when he had panic attacks. Though… this certainly one of his usual panic attacks. This was nothing similar. It was unnerving, to say the least. 

But there was nothing else that he could think of that could explain it, and although Phil seemed involved there was no way in hell he was talking to  _ Phil  _ about  _ anything.  _ That’s a hard no from Wilbur.

Phil came down the stairs in the corner of the room hours later to the sight of Wilbur rocking back and forth on the floor with the blanket wrapped around himself, muttering quietly under his breath.

Before he could get close enough to hear what his son was saying, Wilbur looked up and made eye contact with the older man. 

“Hey, Wil.” He moved forward slowly, cautiously. He didn’t know exactly how much of his son’s sanity remained. “How’s it going, mate?” 

Wilbur laughed, seeing his father’s cautious movements. He wasn’t a fucking animal. Although his laughter seemed to convince Phil otherwise, noticing him tense.    


He was tempted to say something along the lines of  _ I would be fine, but you see something incredibly inconvenient happened. I was revived  _ But he decided against it. 

“I’m fine.”

He ignored the way Phil’s face fell. He was clearly hoping that Wilbur was just thrown off when he originally woke up, and the lovely little nap would have ‘lifted his spirits’ or some shit.

Before Phil could open his mouth to speak, Wilbur stood up, reaching his hand out to grasp the sofa as he nearly fell over. Brushing off Phil’s attempts to help stabilize him, Wilbur nodded to the outfit he’d noticed before his  _ fit _ . “Are those for me?”

Phil nodded, and Wilbur asked where he could change. As much as he detested wearing the same clothing as his absentee father, he remembered arriving, though nothing outside of the blistering cold was recognized in his mind. It was just so  _ cold,  _ and he was just not dressed for the weather, still wearing his tattered trench coat and bloodied shirt that he wore as he died.

The winged man led him to a separate room for privacy so he could change, and he did just that, albeit reluctantly. 

While donning the complicated clothing, he wondered what he would do now. Now that he was  _ alive.  _ Wilbur started to compile a mental list.

  * _Find out what the fuck has happened since he’s been dead_


  * Make sure L’Manberg is actually gone


  * Meet up with Dream (?)


  * Find Tommy. 



No matter what happened, he would find Tommy. Make sure he was safe. Happy. Wilbur paused in buttoning his cloak, wondering if Tommy would actually be happy that he was back or not. Because Wilbur had been an ass in Pogtopia, he admits that freely. 

Wilbur wouldn’t blame him if Tommy didn’t want anything to do with him.

Shaking his head, Wilbur shook his shoulders slightly to allow the cloak to settle comfortably, and turned to walk back into the living room.

Low and behold, standing in the exact same spot was Phil. This time though, he wasn’t alone. Stood next to him was Technoblade. 

“Oh, hello Technoblade. Did you miss me?” Wilbur jabbed. He expected a scoff and roll of the eyes, not a shaky breath.

“Yeah, Wil. I did. I missed you a lot.” 

Wilbur shuffled awkwardly, but didn’t respond. He couldn’t help but notice that Techno was also wearing his iconic Antarctic Empire wardrobe. A lot similar to Wilbur’s, but with more golden accents and jewelry. Part of his piglin nature, he knew. 

Phil spoke up, “You must be hungry, Wil. Would you like something to eat?”

The taller man thought he wasn’t hungry. He was actually quite neasause. He feared if he ate something it wouldn’t stay down. He shook his head mutely, resisting the urge to shuffle his feet. He had to act strong, he couldn’t trust them.  _ They betrayed me.  _

Phil bit his lip, no doubt thinking about how skinny he was. _ No shit, Phil.  _ Wilbur thought.  _ I was fucking dead yesterday.  _

Before Phil could even open his mouth to respond, there was a knock at the door. It sounded almost hesitant. Both men standing opposite of him paled, and they looked at each other with wide eyes.

Wilbur moved towards the door before being stopped by Techno.

“Wil- I don’t think that’d be a great idea-”

He ignored the pinkette, opening the door, expecting to see a grinning Tommy stood on the other side. Instead he saw a freakishly tall, well dressed hybrid with odd eyes. One red, one green. He had fluffy black and white split dyed hair. His hairline seemed to follow all the way down his body, as the rest of it was split in the same fashion. Odd. 

* * *

_ “ _ _ Hello, what is your name? I don’t think we’ve met!” He asked lightly, smiling widely at the timid hybrid in front of him. _

_ Said hybrid shifted from one foot to the other, wringing his hands. “R-Ranboo. My name is Ranboo.” _

_ He grinned again, “It’s nice to meet you! I’m-” _

* * *

Wilbur shook his head, brow furrowed, trying to subtly steady his shaking hands. How did he know this child (It was clearly a child, despite how tall it was)? He decided to ignore it.

Straightening his back and allowing his hair to frame his face just perfectly, Wilbur used his  _ ‘political’  _ voice. “Who are you?” 

“I- I’m Ranboo… You look different?” The hybrid, Ranboo-  but he knew that \- said with a slight tremble that almost made Wilbur smile.

He arched a brow, “And how would you know that when we’ve never met?” He chuckled cruelly, “Listen, kid- Ranboo, whatever. I don’t know who you are, or how you found us. But I recommend you  _ leave before I throw you in the pit.”  _

“Wil-” Techno stood between him and Ranboo. “Wil- He’s a friend. He lives here.”

Phil put a hand on Wilbur’s shoulder, and led him away from the door. His eyes didn’t move from Ranboo’s. He smirked when the taller quaked. 

“Wilbur, stop it. Ranboo, please come inside. He won’t hurt you, I promise.”

The hybrid did what Phil asked, but only just enough so that plenty of distance remained between him and Wilbur, but he was still able to close the door behind them, sheltering them from the cold winds.

Ranboo hunched over a bit, “I’m sorry. It’s just- it’s just that it’ll start snowing soon and I haven’t finished the walls on my house yet so…” 

“Ranboo,” Phil smiled that fatherly smile that Wilbur hadn’t seen in ages. “I’ve already told you that you’re welcome at any time. No need to knock. But… I have to admit, it might not have been the best time.”

Before Ranboo could apologize again, Phil continued. “This is my son  _ Wilbur.  _ He uh-  _ died  _ before you moved to the SMP so I don’t think you’ve met. He was revived just yesterday.”

Ranboo’s eyes widened, and with a small “oh” he pulled out a brown, shabby looking book.

* * *

_ While walking through idly, he saw Ranboo sitting outside his house, jotting something down in a book. _

_ Approaching the hybrid, he asked in his normal light voice, “What’s that, Ranboo?” _

_ Ranboo jumped slightly, startled by his sudden appearance. Most people are, they don’t usually see him coming. He smiled again, sitting down beside the teen when he got a smile in return. _

_ “Oh, this is just my memory book. I have really bad memory loss, right? So to make sure I don’t forget anything important, I write everything down here.” _

_ “Oh, that’s cool!” He said, “I have something like that. But it's only for things that I remember from when I was-” _

* * *

“-bur? Wilbur?” Techno’s voice called out to him.

“What?” He snapped.

The pinkette put his hands up, “You were just starin’ out into space, man. Started shakin’ n’ stuff. Just makin’ sure you’re alright.”

He just scoffed and rolled his eyes at the false concern.  _ That’s all it is, no traitor cares about me. And they’re all traitors. Well, except Ranboo, I suppose. He hasn’t been around long enough to actually betray me. But he will soon enough. _

Wilbur looked thoughtfully at the tall hybrid, wondering why he seemed so familiar, why he  _ has memories of him,  _ but has never seen him before in his life. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be going on vacation this week, so I won't be able to write as much but I hope to still get the next chapter out at least soon-ish. Please let me know you're thoughts!

**Author's Note:**

> This first chapter was shorter than what the chapters will usually look like, they'll probably be over double in length, but prologues are usually shorter. 
> 
> Please tell me what you think!


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